the cadence of part time poets

Chapter 99: Wotcher!

Out of college, money spent,
See no future, pay no rent,
All the money's gone, nowhere to go;

Any jobber got the sack,
Monday morning, turning back,
Yellow lorry slow, nowhere to go...

- "You Never Give Me Your Money" The Beatles, 1969

Wednesday 6th December 1978

They met up in a tiny greasy spoon cafe near Whitechapel, off the corner of Cable Street and not far from Tomny's flat. Its front windows were decorated in twinkling lights and cotton made to look like fake snow, and there was a flyer pasted on the front door advertising visits from Santa Clause at the nearby shopping centre. Remus would wish that he'd picked somewhere nicer the moment he sat down, but Tomny had insisted—nowhere fancy. They were not fancy folk, as he said, and even if they were, no one did a good fry-up like the average working-man anyway.

When Remus arrived he'd found Tomny smoking outside on the pavement. For a split second he imagined what it might be like if he were just meeting his friend to catch up. Would they batter each other around a bit? Go find some half-empty paint cans and get to tagging the streets? Maybe they'd pop a lock or two, rob a corner shop—have some real fun. There certainly wouldn't be any talk of jobs or babies. Remus missed it, but he knew by the way Tomny looked at him that there was no going back.

Thonas Armstrong had made up his mind, and Remus was just going to have to get used to it.

"I feel a bit bad," Tomny said, "making ya come all this way."

"I live in Shepherd's Bush now, not China. I think I remember my way around St George's East. Best watch out or it's you who's gonna turn amnesiac, ya old fart."

"Cheeky shit. Fine, c'mere."

Tomny hugged him tight. Remus hugged back.

"Aw, Lu... I'm glad we're finally doing this."

"Me too." As they pulled apart, Remus tucked either hand into an arm pit to ward off the cold. "So... Where is she then?"

"Skylar? Oh, she's inside already." He raised the cigarette meekly. "Says being around all the smoke is bad for the baby. M'gonna try and quit, maybe. Might even save meself a few quid, innit."

And the coke? The dealing? Remus wanted to ask. Have you managed that already?

"Gonna need the money for nappies anyway," he said instead.

Tomny chuckled, and then flicked his cigarette butt down a nearby street drain.

"Shall we?"

She was waiting for them in a corner booth, the red vinyl seat off-setting the dark navy of her winter coat. She waved when they came in, and Remus' stomach plummeted. Skylar was pretty. Perhaps if she weren't he could've compounded a poor appearance with the fact that she was up the duff without a penny to her name and created some real pity for the girl. But it was not to be. Dishwater blonde, same as Tomny, with eyes the colour of melted chocolate. She had a few moles, charming ones, with a pouty little mouth. A true countryside princess, with an Essex accent.

"It's a pleasure to meet youse," she said, after he'd sat. Then she offered him her hand. The other she kept cradled around the base of her stomach like it was this great weight to bear. Remus didn't know why; he'd asked Lily and with her due date set for late April, the baby couldn't have been bigger than a lump of dryer lint. But Remus shook her hand anyway, and introduced himself properly, determined to make a half-decent impression. It was just one meal. He could make it through one meal.

"Oi, Bruce," Tomny called, instantly garnering the attention of one of the guys in the kitchen; "cup of coffee for this one and three of your best fry-ups. Just put it on my tab."